Glamour or Natural?
by hearttorn
Summary: AH/AU... Sookie is a photographer and photo retoucher. What will happen when she has a date to work with up and coming actor Eric Northman? Lemons
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: so here it is! My first foray into the AH genre! Right now this is just a one shot, but let me know if you want it to continue. Mega shout-outs to my hella-beta vikingloverelle, for being so patient as I got the mojo back to finish up this story. I left her hanging, waiting for the lemons! LOL The Eric in this story is based off of Alexander Skarsgard, so when you imagine Eric, picture Alex. Sookie I have given my car, my passion for photo retouching, and my tongue-in-cheek stream of consciousness. Oh, and my red fuck me pumps. I only wish I could do a photo shoot with AS! _

_As always, the Maker, Charlaine Harris, owns us all. Even me._

* * *

I woke up this morning excited, dare I say hopping up and down, to go to work. I mean, I love my job, but some days are just better than others. I work for an ad agency as a photographer/photo retoucher. I'm something of an anomaly because not all photographers can glamour retouch their photos, whereas I can do it on-site so the subjects can see it in action and approve the changes. I work fast and I work well. Most retouchers work in little rooms, absent their subjects, never meeting them, which gives way to situations where Kate Winslet sues because they made her too skinny or in the case of Demi Moore, where someone has a brain fart and takes off her hip. I think my way is the way of the future and its certainly safer. But I digress.

I have a very good reason for being so excited about going into work today. I was scheduled to shoot Eric Northman. THE Eric Northman. Up and coming Hollywood actor, Swedish hunk, blond and gorgeous, reported to be gracious and easy to work with, Eric Northman. Oh, and did I mention that he's single. Not that that matters to me because there's no way he'd ever notice me. I'm just the woman behind the camera. I mean I'm pretty, but just about everything about me screams average except my boobs. I'm blessed with naturally big boobs. Other than that I'm average height (about 5'6), average size for an American woman (a 10 most days, an 8 on good days, which equals curvy), with blonde hair and blue eyes. The blonde hair blue eyed likeness to a certain Swede I've been daydreaming about. Well, me, and a large portion of the American female population. But unlike them, I get some up close and personal time with him today!

I popped out of bed and danced over to my closet. I spent a ridiculous amount of time puzzling over my wardrobe options for this shoot and had come up with what I felt was the perfect outfit for today. Black, wide leg, cuffed trousers (graphic designers LOVE black), a black v-neck top that showed off the girls (but tastefully), a wide, patent leather belt in screaming red, red crystal chandelier earrings and to top the whole outfit off, red, peep-toe stiletto fuck-me pumps. They were a stretch, but come on the guy's 6'4, and I had to be able to adjust the lights around him, right? Right.

I pulled my blonde hair back into a messy ponytail (I hated having my hair in my way when I worked) and carefully applied my makeup - I was going for a natural look with red lipstick that matched my outfit. Oh, and black mascara - as a blonde, my eyelashes tend to "disappear." Annoying.

I swung by the agency and grabbed my gear, loading it all into my fire engine red GTO. I love my car but it has the tiniest trunk for a car its size. I had to load some of it into the front passenger seat. Luckily, I had this down to a science. I jumped in, fired up the big engine and headed down to the studio where the shoot was scheduled. I got there way too early but I hate being rushed. Then you get all sweaty, and your face gets red, and it's just... ugh.

I got everything set up, but I had to approximate on the lighting, guessing a bit on how tall the lights should be for a guy that's 6'4". Sometimes the agency will send a stand-in, but since he was just up and coming, and not an A-lister, they hadn't. I'd just have to hope he was as easy going as everyone said and didn't fuss over the final set up.

I hooked my Mac up to the camera and got Photoshop loaded and ready to go. Finally, I sat down to wait.

At exactly 1:00, in strolled Eric Northman, looking every bit as tall and delectable as I had expected. Only, he seemed even more... I don't know, larger, somehow, and imposing, in person. He was wearing a black blazer over a purple plaid shirt, with a black tee underneath, jeans, and black tennis shoes. I was surprised to see he was alone, and not surrounded by handlers.

I stood up, and I extended my hand. "Mr. Northman, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for being so prompt."

He took my hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you. I was raised that it was very rude to be late. And please, call me Eric. Can I call you Sookie?"

"Of course. Let's get started. Can I have you stand in front of the lights? I apologize that there's no stand in, so I will have to adjust the lights for your height and coloring."

"Sure, no problem. Take your time. I actually don't have any other appointments today." He casually walked over to the backdrop and shoved his hands in his pockets. Damn, he was a good-looking guy. Even better looking in person. Focus, Sookie.

I walked over to the lights and had to adjust them higher than I'd imagined. He was much taller than I had allowed for. Wow. I headed back to the camera and checked the screen, went back to the lights, tilted them down a bit. He looked a bit red. Back to the camera, yup, he looked better.

"I just need to take a few test shots, you don't need to pose, just relax."

"Sure. Wow, those are some shoes."

I laughed. "Thanks. I had to be tall enough to adjust the lights for you somehow."

He chuckled. "Ever hear of a ladder?"

"Ladders don't come in patent leather."

He gave a roaring laugh. "This is true. And you might fall off a ladder. Then I'd have to catch you. But that might not be a bad thing."

Was he flirting with me? Um... think fast. "Well then, I'll try to twist an ankle."

"Wait until the end of the day. I wouldn't want anything to get in the way of you completing your assignment." He smiled revealing a mouth full of straight, white teeth. Lord, help me.

I smiled back. "I'll keep that in mind."

I shot off a few test frames and they came out looking pretty good, but I wanted to make a few more adjustments. I tweaked the lighting, did a few more test rounds, and then felt like we were good to go.

"Ok, I think we're ready. I like the hands in your pockets look, could you pose like that for a few frames?"

"Sure."

I took a few shots like that, then I had him remove the blazer. He was pretty natural at posing, and we improvised a number of shots. He un-tucked his plaid shirt, and we shot a number of shots like that. Then he unbuttoned it (was it getting hot in here?) and we shot a few more. I got to touch him a bit when I went up to adjust the collar of his shirt, fix the way it draped, re-align his arm. Sometimes, its good to be me.

Then he took off the plaid shirt (yikes. yahoo. yum.) and I took a number of shots of him in just his jeans and black tee, sitting in front of the backdrop. The black really made his blond hair pop. The tee stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, showing how defined they were. I felt a bit faint.

After getting a number of shots like that, I couldn't focus any more. "Um, I think we've got it. Let me just upload everything to the computer."

I sat down at the table I had turned into a makeshift desk and hooked the transfer cable up to the Mac. Within seconds the shots appeared on the screen. My practiced eye immediately picked the best of the bunch.

"So, glamour or natural?"

"I beg your pardon?"

I laughed. "Sorry. I mean, do you want me to glamour retouch your shots, meaning I airbrush out any imperfections and make you look absolutely perfect, or do you want natural? You'd still look like you but I would retouch the technical imperfections, like the dust on the lens, the light flares, etc?"

He came around and leaned over behind me. "So you're saying you think I have imperfections?" He teased.

"Well, I happen to like you just as you are, but... if I was my editor, for example, I would ask me to fix these." I gently reached up and touched the small puffy circles under his eyes.  
He looked surprised. "You can fix that?"

"Easily." I turned and, grabbing my trackball, clicked on my Healing Brush tool. I grabbed a few pixels of "healthy" skin and in a few moments had the skin under one eye smooth, taut and blending into his cheekbone.

"That's amazing. I've never seen it in action, or even really thought about it. And you do it so fast!"

"Well, it takes a lot of practice to make it look so easy." I smiled.

"I'm sure. But... I'm not sure I'm a glamour kind of guy."

"I don't think you are either. How about I just fix the technical stuff?"

"Sounds good. Can I watch?"

"Sure. I think there's another chair in the hall," I replied.

He popped out into the hall and came back carrying a chair and a big smile. "Success!"

I smiled back. His enthusiasm was so contagious and came in such a lovely package. It was so easy to be swept along with it.

For the next hour or so, we sat in easy silence as I worked, the only sounds in the room the clicking of my trackball and keyboard. He sat slightly behind me, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. I was self-conscious for a while, but after a few minutes, I honestly forgot he was there. I just went over the photo, pixel by pixel, correcting. This was what I loved. I felt like I was correcting nature, making it better than it actually was. It was a heady power.

Finally, I was done. I stood up. "Well, there you go. You, but slightly better, without camera and lighting imperfections."

He stood too and without a word swiftly kissed me, hard. I felt my knees give out, and his arm came around my waist to hold me up. He released my mouth after a moment.

"What was that?"

"You've been driving me crazy since I got here, with your fuck me pumps and messy pony tail. Watching you work, moving around, your belt making your curves stand out, I couldn't contain myself any longer. Sitting here, next to you for the last hour was sheer torture. Did you know you get this little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you concentrate? And you chew on your bottom lip when you seem frustrated? Jesus, woman, its sexy as hell!" He kissed me again and sucked my lip into his mouth, chewing on it lightly.

For a moment, my brain rebelled. I had one of those "he must do this to every woman" panic attacks. Then, my brain quickly realized I was kissing ERIC NORTHMAN, and it should shut the hell up! Brain successfully disengaged, I slid my arms around his waist to pull him closer to me and kissed him back.

I don't know how long we stood like that, clinging to each other and kissing like fools, but it must've been a while. Finally, he pulled back and I groaned from the loss of his lips on mine. He was panting and gave me a look that could melt Mother Teresa's panties.

"Let's get out of here. Come to my hotel with me?"

I thought fast. I had blocked out my schedule all day for this shoot and the agency had the room leased until 8 a.m. the next morning. I wasn't a one-night-stand type of girl, but how often would an opportunity like this come along?

"Ummm… okay. Let me just lock up and we can go." I shut down all the lights and threw my camera and laptop into my bag. By the time I got the door locked he had the elevator waiting. As soon as I stepped inside, he was on me again, kissing me like he was ravenous. I ran my hands down his back and to his delicious rear and had just wrapped a leg around him when a 'ding' alerted me that we were in the lobby. With, I might add, an amused and shocked audience of people who were waiting to get on.

I blushed to my hairline and grabbed his hand, tugging him behind me. I could hear him chuckle as I shot across the lobby as fast as my 4 inch heels could take me. Outside in the bright sunshine, I looked up at him.

"Do you want to drive or should I?"

"I had a car bring me, since I'm not familiar with this area, so would you mind…?"

I smiled. "Sure. I'm just down this way, about a block." I headed off in the right direction and he fell into step next to me, grabbing my hand and swinging it between us like it was the most natural thing in the world. I hated to let his go when I had to dig in my purse for my keys. I clicked the unlock button on my remote and he stopped in his tracks.

"This is you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You just didn't strike me as the sports car kind of girl," he said, getting in.

"You'd be surprised," I said as I slid into the driver's seat.

"I have a Corvette, myself."

"Really? We have the same engine. You've got less weight, though, so you'd probably whip me at the quarter mile." I tossed him a grin as I started the car and headed out.

The shocked look on his face was priceless. "How do you know about cars?"

"Trust me, if you grew up with my brother, you'd know about cars, too. I don't think he speaks English, just 'Auto.'" He cracked up at that. "So where am I going, anyway?"  
He gave me directions and the closer we got to his hotel, the more nervous I got. Was I really going to do this? Have an afternoon delight with Eric Northman?

I drove on autopilot, just following his directions while my brain debated with itself. Yes, or no? Stay, or go? I went around and around with my conscience, my inner good girl fighting with the girl in my pants who was turned the hell on, just from him sitting next to me. His arm would occasionally brush mine, and it felt like electric shocks running through me. Finally, just as we reached his hotel, he reached one finger out and ran the back of it along my arm. That was it – I'd decided that yes, I sure as hell am going to do this! If the man could drive me crazy just by touching my arm, I wasn't going to miss the chance to find out what him touching the rest of me felt like!

I parked, and rather shakily got out of the car. He must have sensed my anxiety, as he smiled at me and gently took my hand.

"Sookie?"

Wait, that's me. "Yes, Eric?" I croaked out.

"It's okay, you know. I like you, I think you like me, and I'd like to spend some time getting to know you better. We can spend the time however you want. Nothing has to happen if you don't want it to." His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

"It's just…" Oh, Lord, was I really going to say this? I was, evidently. "I just wondered if you do this often. Kiss strange women, invite them back to your hotel..." Yup, I did it. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer, but the question was out there, regardless.

"This…" he gestured between us, "is not something I do often, no. I don't usually meet women who are gorgeous, intelligent, talented and can make me laugh. So, no, I don't. But, I felt like I couldn't let you pass me by."

God help me, I believed him. Call me naïve, but I did. I smiled a little shyly. "Well, in that case…"

He gave me a big smile in return and led me into the hotel. In the elevator, he simply wrapped his arms around me and snuggled me into his side. It calmed me. I noticed how good he smelled – not too strong, but a light, musky scented cologne. I slid my arms around him in response, my fingers tracing over the muscles in his lower back.

The elevator door opened, and he led me down the hall to his room. He slid the key card out of his pocket and swiped it, opening the door for me. He had a nice suite – not obnoxiously huge, but with a nice sitting area separate from the bedroom. I wandered inside – hovering – unsure of where to go or exactly what to do.

He came in behind me and strolled over to an armchair in the sitting area. He leaned back, stretching out his long legs and gave a relaxed sigh. "So, tell me about yourself, Sookie Stackhouse."

I simply stared at him for a moment. Here was Eric Northman, sitting in his hotel room, asking me about myself. Did I want to talk? Or did I want to grab this chance that was lounging in front of me and live out my fantasies? It only took me a split second to make up my mind, and then I flung myself across the room and onto him.

His chair flew back when I tackled him. He gave a surprised "oomph" as I landed on him and we both tumbled to the floor. He wasn't able to say anything else since I attacked his mouth with mine. It took him a second to switch gears, but then he was kissing me back, hard. His arms wrapped around my waist in a death grip and pulled me tight against him. His tongue began to move in an easily recognizable rhythm, and my hips answered his call, grinding against him.

He moaned against my mouth and sat up, rolling us away from the chair until he was on top of me. His hands ran down my body, feeling the shape of it, the curves. I reached up and yanked off his jacket and plaid shirt with one jerk.

"Too many clothes," I muttered.

His hands went to my waist, unbuckling my belt, then made short work of the button on my trousers. I reached for his black t-shirt and began to tug. He sat up away from me to pull it off, and I missed his contact immediately. However, I was distracted by the perfect chest now on display in front of me. I'll admit it - I gaped, a little.

He lifted up on his knees and tugged down my trousers. He slid his hands up my bare thighs as I kicked them off. I shivered from his touch on my skin, and reached for the button on his jeans. He leaned back and wriggled them off, his plaid boxers going along for the ride. I was now lying on the floor of a hotel room, with a very naked and aroused Eric Northman above me. I must've done something right in my life…

He rested his weight on one perfect arm as he tugged at my top, motioning that he wanted it off. I reached down, quickly pulled it off and threw it over my head. His eyes roamed down my body, taking in the red bra and panties I was wearing. From the look in his eyes, he liked what he saw.

He lowered his head over my bra, breathing a warm sigh over my breasts, sending tremors through my entire body. Biting down gently, he tugged at my nipple through my bra, and I'd never felt anything so good. I reached behind me, undoing the bra clasp, and he slid it down my arms.

"Beautiful," he whispered against my skin. His hands caressed my breasts, stroking, and then his tongue touched me. I felt like I was about to come undone, just from him licking and teasing my breasts. He caught a nipple in his teeth and tugged gently, and I went stiff with shock, feeling it everywhere.

While his mouth worked my breast, his hands slipped down my waist to the strap on the side of my panties. Fingers tucked under the waistband, and somewhere in my lust-fogged brain I registered the intent and raised my hips, allowing him to slide them down my thighs until I could wiggle out of them. I kicked them off and they went flying, somewhere across the room.

His large hands slid back up my thighs, tickling and teasing the flesh there. As if of their own accord, my legs opened, allowing him to glide further up. He slowly licked his way down my belly to the apex of my sex. A gentle finger ghosted up my slit, stroking and teasing. I moaned at the sensation, and my legs opened further, allowing for his broad shoulders.

"So beautiful…" he groaned against my core, and his voice sent vibrations through me. I felt his tongue dart out, touching my nub, and I about came up off of the floor. He began teasing me, flicking his limber tongue here and there, in and out. Just as I was about to scream with frustration and want, he pulled my nub between his lips and began sucking, strong. In what seemed like mere moments, I was incoherently screaming my release.

He licked me, over and over, from top to bottom as I came back to earth, and when I calmed, he slid his long, firm body up mine. He gently kissed my lips and smiled at me, stroking my hair.

That was fantastic…" I breathed. "But…"

"But?" his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"But… I want more," I said huskily. He smiled again, the furrow in his brow dissipating.

"Then more you will get."

He leaned down and kissed me, harder and more passionate than he kissed me at the studio. He pulled up on his knees and wrapped his hands around my hips, lifting them to meet his. He paused for a second, located his jeans and took a condom from his wallet, quickly rolling it on.

"I thought you said you didn't usually do this," I said darkly.

"I don't – this has been there since I was last dating someone, a few months ago." He smiled down at me, meeting my eyes. "I promise."

Again, I believed him – either he was a really good actor or a really good liar, but something in me said he was sincere. I nodded, and his smile turned into a beam that spread across his face. He held my legs and slowly began to slide into me. It was exquisite, feeling him stretch me slowly, moving gently in and out as my body fit to his. Inch by inch, he worked his way in, until it seemed like he was hitting my heart, he was so deep.

I moaned and wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. He understood my signal and began to thrust harder. I met his pace, lifting my hips to his. This was an ideal position – not only could he hit me, deeply and at a perfect angle, but I could gaze at his gorgeous bare chest as he did. Our eyes locked and he seemed to come undone, pounding into me with abandon.

He shifted slightly on his knees, and immediately began to hit my sweet spot. I felt a lovely warm, pulling sensation down low in my stomach, rising and rising until I hit my peak. Watching me come triggered his release, and I in turn watched him. He stilled, deep within me, and threw his head back, letting out a long moan. Finally he relaxed, and lowered himself to lay his head on my chest.

I was taken aback by the affectionate gesture. I figured he would be a "that was great, but I've gotta go" type of guy. I tentatively stroked his hair, and he sighed in pleasure.

"That was amazing, Sookie," he smiled against my chest.

"It was… it was, well, the best sex I've ever had," I confessed.

He looked up at my eyes and smiled. "It helps when you have an incredible partner." I blushed and looked away, making him laugh. "I'm being a horrible host, though – you probably have rug burns on your back!"

"It was worth it," I smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it. Let's get a little more comfortable anyway, though, okay?" He stood and reached his hand down to me. I took it and he led me into the bedroom. He tossed back the covers and lay down, pulling me to snuggle against him. I wrapped my arm across his chest and, in the warm cocoon of his arms I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke, it was dark outside and Eric Northman was spooned behind me. I smiled to myself, reflecting on the day. I realized it simply couldn't get any better. I decided to end my encounter with him on that perfect note.

I gently slid myself out from under his arm, draped across my hip. He didn't stir as I quickly dressed in the dark, although I was unable to locate where I had kicked my underwear earlier. Commando it was! I went back into the sitting area and found a notepad and pen on the desk. I scribbled a note and placed it on 'my' pillow, before slipping noiselessly out of the suite: "_Today was perfect, thank you. I'll never forget it. – S_"

---0o0---

A few days later, while rummaging through my purse, I found it – a note tucked deep inside, scrawled in messy handwriting on the notepad from his hotel. "_I meant it – you are amazing. Women like you don't come along that often. Please call_. _Eric_" There was a phone number at the bottom. He gave me his number? Well, hot damn.

* * *

_A/N: always wear a condom, kiddies! (there's my after school special message for the day)_


	2. Chapter 2

EPOV

For the millionth time this week, my mind travels back to Sookie Stackhouse. I've checked my phone at least as many times to see if she called or texted me; I've even had my PA Laura take it in to the Apple store to have it checked out. It is, in fact, working correctly. _Skit_. Why is it that I finally meet a fantastic woman, and she cant even stay through a catnap?

S-Day, as I've come to think of it, had started out pretty typically wake up in strange hotel room, manage to groom myself (leaving just the right amount of stubble you never want too much or you look like George Michael in the Faith video), and have a car take me to a photo shoot. As my career has progressed, I've gotten more comfortable with days like these. The typical-ness was shot to hell as soon as I opened the door to that studio, though. Ive worked with a lot of photographers, but never one as pretty as Sookie.

When she turned to the door and introduced herself to me, I was momentarily stunned. It was a bit of shock to see a woman with curves - all actresses seem to aspire to be a size negative 2. I managed to squeak out my name and shake her hand; well, it sounded squeaky to me, but she didn't seem to notice anything. Or maybe she was just too polite to mention it. She also didn't say anything about my posing, which I'm sure was horrible.

I had a fantastic opportunity to ogle Sookie while she flitted around, adjusting her set up. She was focused and professional, and totally absorbed in what she was doing, so I took complete advantage and shamelessly checked her out. I think I may have made some small talk, but all I remember is Sookie. When she was ready, I managed to get it together enough to at least try to pose for her shots. At one point, I know she came over and adjusted my shirt, because she was close enough for me to note that she smelled like vanilla and sugar. I could tell by the way she carried herself that she was completely unaware of her beauty not in a bad way, like low self-esteem, just that she never used her beauty like many women would.

After she got enough shots, she immediately went to work editing. Watching her work, and sitting close enough to breathe in her sweet smell, was intoxicating. All her little tics were so sexy and yet so unintentional. I was cognizant enough to realize that she was very good at what she did she had managed to get some really good shots of me. And seeing what she could do with a photo was amazing she made it so much more perfect, yet still real.

Seriously, what is it about this woman that has me so wound up? I've been distracted and off my game since I met her. I was late getting to set one day after I overslept, due to an extremely appealing dream about her. I keep forgetting my lines and missing my marks. This is totally unlike me - I pride myself on being professional and prepared. Maybe its the fuck-me pumps that are throwing me. There's something about red heels that seems to say, _I will rock your world_. How she managed to move around so fast in those, I will never understand. Women in high heels are like their own rule of movement, balance, gravity... whatever you want to call it, it was always sexy to watch.

I was sitting in my directors chair on set, staring moodily at my iPhone screen yet again, when I felt a body slink into the chair next to mine. Great.

"Hello, Eric darling. Puss puss," a voice purred at me, attempting to sound sexy. You do one video where you speak Swedish, and suddenly everyone thinks they can speak Swedish! Or rather, some people only choose to remember key phrases.

My eyes slowly rolled in the direction of the voice, towards my co-star. Pamela Ravenscroft (which has to be the worst example of a stage name ever, in my opinion) sat, in all her 90-lb bobble-headed glory, staring at me like a cat that ate a huge bowl of cream. Well, she would be if she ever went anywhere near dairy - or meat, or carbs. But I digress.

"Pam, how are you this morning?" My eyes went back to my phone. I wonder if there's an iPhone app that can show you how many times someone has thought about dialing your number. That might make me feel better. I started searching.

"No kiss?" Pamela is persistent, her bony cheek turned towards me. She's been relentless in her pursuit of me since we started production. Her star is a bit on the down turn these days, and she's desperate for any press she can get. Its no mistake that her initials are P.R.

"Umm, think I'm coming down with something," I threw out as a way to avoid the requisite Hollywood cheek kiss. There's no way her anorexic ass would come anywhere near a germ. As expected, she visibly paled to an even more unhealthy shade and leaned away from me, digging into the giant bag of crazy that never leaves her side.

"Here, you should take this. And this. And these," she said, flinging bottles at me. "They'll help you feel better." How typical that she carries a mobile pharmacy with her. Her immune system must be nil; all her body's energy is probably devoted to carrying her too-large-for-her-frame skull around.

"You just take these, and you'll be feeling better in no time, she attempted a mothering tone. But since you aren't feeling 100%, I'll talk to Jake and see if we cant re-arrange the shot-list today. I think were scheduled for a scene together and I just know Jake wouldn't want both his stars sick." Jake is our much put-upon director. But, what the heck? If it gets me out of dealing with her for a while, I'll work this cold until I'm at pneumonia's doorstep.

"Yeah, that might be good. Thanks, Pam." I tried to look feeble and less than the picture of health. I even sniffled a bit. That did the trick - she was out of her seat and rushing to find poor Jake as fast as her knobby knees could carry her.

Another voice popped up over my left shoulder. "So what did you say to make Ravenswhore run for it?" I turned to see my grinning blond assistant, Laura, give me a knowing smirk. I laughed at our nickname for Pam.

"Fake cold. Worked like a charm."

"Hmm, well, I might know just the thing to cure you, boss."

"Yeah? And it was already like Christmas morning today. What ya got?"

"Sookie Stackhouse called for you." Laura thoughtfully avoided my uber un-cool beaming grin. "She called Mark, actually, who gave her my number, and I, in turn, gave her your trailer number. She's calling back in 15." Mark is my manager. Why would she call Mark and not my cell? Still, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"It's okay, you can say it. I know I'm awesome." Laura gave me a smug grin. As I shot out of my chair towards my trailer, I yelled back over my shoulder.

"Laura, you ROCK!"

SPOV

ARGH. Stupid Sophie-Anne, my boss, is insisting on having me glamour retouch Eric's photo. You know, you forget to get a guy to sign an approval waiver just because you're rushing off to the afternoon of your dreams, and suddenly your boss thinks she can make you do anything she wants.

"I'm telling you, Sophie-Anne, Mr. Northman did not want to be glamoured. We specifically discussed the area under his eyes and I gave him a quick version of what it would look like, and he declined."

"Frankly, Sookie, you have no documentation to back this up which I completely fail to understand, as our policy clearly states that all subjects must sign a waiver. And the bags are driving me crazy. So, either produce a waiver or do it my way." She spun on her skyscraper heels and stalked off.

Ugh. I'm going to have to call him now. His number has been burning a hole in my purse for a week, and I still haven't gotten up the courage to call him. This is business, though, so maybe I shouldn't call his cell. I quickly dug out his file and found his manager's number.

"Hello, Mr. Sullivan? This is Sookie Stackhouse..."


	3. Chapter 3

SPOV

Oh, crap. I was going to have to actually talk to him. Every other star in the world would have their manager or their agent deal with issues like these, but not Eric Northman. Nooooo. As a matter of fact, from the way they responded to my name, it was almost like he had instructed them to be sure that he talked to me. Surely that's just wishful thinking, though.

I waited fifteen minutes then dialed the number his assistant gave me. It barely rang once before it was answered.

"Hello?" His voice sounded a little higher than usual, but it was definitely him.

"Mr. Northman, I don't know if you remember me, this is Sookie Stackhouse from _Trends_ magazine?"

"Mr. Northman? Sookie, it's me, Eric. Please, call me Eric."

Crap. Ok, so he's not playing the whole "professional" role. Have to switch gears.

"Oh, ha ha. Of course, Eric. The reason I'm calling is-"

"How have you been?" he interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"How have you been? This week, I mean. Is everything ok?"

"Umm, yeah, everything's fine, I'm fine."

"Because you never called me. Um, you did find my number, right? Unless you called and I missed it somehow. "

"Umm, yeah I did. I mean, I didn't call, but I did find your number." Kill me now, I am totally coming off as an airhead. Focus, Sookie! "The reason I'm calling is because you never signed a photo waiver, and my boss wants me to glamour retouch your photos."

"I thought I said I didn't want that? I liked what you did."

"Um, thanks. Yeah, I told my boss that, but without a waiver I can't enforce your wishes."

"So you need me to sign something?"

"Um, yeah, I can just fax it over and-"

"Or we could meet. So I could sign in person. What are you doing? Tonight, I mean?" In person? Tonight? Oh God, he wants to meet me in person. I can't do this! My whole "one night stand" persona has been retired! Still, it may be it easier to meet him, get it signed, and when he sees me he'll realize he made a huge mistake and I can go back to my super boring life.

"Tonight. Um… nothing I guess."

"Do you know Joan's on Third?"

"Sure."

"Ok, meet me there at 7:00. And Sookie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't bail on me, okay?" Did he actually sound nervous?

"Um, ok, sure. Joan's at seven. Got it. See you then." I hung up before I could make a further ass of

myself.

What the hell do I do now? Who has a fling with a star and then said star wants to follow up? Me, that's who. Great, now I need an outfit. What do you wear to meet a celebrity at a celebrity hangout? I don't own a bunch of designer clothes, and I rocked my best outfit for the photo shoot.

See, there was a reason why I didn't date – it's just too much stress. Now I had to leave work early, go shopping and then run home to get ready. Ugh, it's all just too much. What I really wanted to do tonight was curl up on my couch under my Snuggie and watched DVR'ed episodes of "RuPaul's Drag Race." Ru would know what to wear; Ru always looked fabulous. But I couldn't exactly dress like a drag queen and show up at Joan's. That's a sure way to get carted to the mental institution – unless, of course, you actually WERE a drag queen. Ugh, my brain was going in circles now.

I sighed, grabbed my purse, hollered to Sophie Anne I would be out for the afternoon, and went off in search of clothes.

EPOV

I ran to my trailer like I was approaching the finish line in the hundred-meter dash. When I got there, though, I wished I had taken my time, since I still had 14 minutes to wait until she called. I paced around for a bit, prowling around the trailer like a crouched panther ready to pounce on its prey. I hate this tin box, I'm too tall to stand up straight in it. I straightened my clothes, until I realized that she wouldn't actually be able to _see_ me so it didn't matter. I planned out what I would say in my head, rehearsing it like I would my lines. It went like this:

_"Hello, Eric?"_

_"Hello, lover," I would purr into the phone._

_"Eric, I'm so, so sorry I didn't call, but I was in a car accident. I totaled my sweet GTO, but luckily there were no outward injuries on my smokin' hot body. I was in a coma all week, and the minute I came to I found your number in my purse and called you."_

_"That's alright, lover, although I was worried about you. I'm glad you are ok, no damage to your gorgeous body – that would be a pity, for me." I would lower my voice to almost a growl on the last part. "Shame about the car, though. Tell me, my lover, why did you leave that night?"_

_"Oh, Eric I'm so sorry about that, too. I just ran to the nearest adult store to buy some super sexy lingerie to wear for you, and some edible massage oil so I could rub your massive shoulders."_

_"That would have been a treat, indeed. I was ready to pleasure you many, many more times that evening, my sweet Sookie."_

_"Oh, Eric, I-"_

My internal reverie was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. PHONE, it's the phone! I snatched it and answered, and complete verbal diarrhea ensued. Oh. My. God. Seriously? I came off like a total clingy, needy punk! "Don't stand me up?" What the hell, Northman?

We finished the pathetic excuse for a conversation and I hung up the phone. Jesus. You would think I'd never actually used the telephone before. Why does this woman have me reduced to a gibbering mess? Women hit on me all the time, but they are all just clones. Maybe it's because I actually liked Sookie. I couldn't remember the last time I liked someone. All that aside, I don't know how I did it but somehow I actually got her to agree to meet with me tonight. Oh God, I think she took pity on me. Fuck.

Ok, ok, so it was a really bad impression to give off, but it was redeemable. Clothes, I needed clothes. I would be coming straight from the set, and all I have here are wardrobe clothes and a few pairs of track pants and tanks I wear to and from work. They will not do.

I grabbed my laptop and went to the websites of a few designers that I really liked. I found a few things and sent the photos to Laura's cell, with a text: "Need clothes 4 date 2nite w Sookie. Priority assignment, HOT!!!"

I got one back a moment later. "Msg rec'd. Breathe. Oh, & UR needed on set to, U know, ACT, before U get fired."

I ran out of my trailer and back to work, leaving the fate of tonight's outfit in Laura's capable hands.


	4. Chapter 4 FINALLY!

_A/N: So, here's the 411 on my extended absence from this story. First, I spent a RIDONKULOUS amount of time working on my entry for the Dead Pan contest - no lie, like, months. I was spent, when it was done. So I took some time off of writing when it was completed, to recover. Then, round about the time I was ready to pick it back up, the dang dong Coachella pics came out, and, I'm not gonna lie, they about killed the mojo of this story for me. You guys owe mega thanks to eric'srenfield for sending me huggies and constant hints (read: demands) on Facebook to get over myself (read: stop pouting) and continue. Note to you all, I respond well to huggies! Also, if you would like to friend me on Facebook, I have put info on my FF profile on how to find me. I'm also on Twitter, but I'm convinced that Twitter has given me ADD, so I don't tweet much. LOL_

_My thanks as always to vikingloverelle for beta-ing this for me, even though she had to go somewhere with wi-fi to do it!_

_P.S. All the sad relationship stories you read in this chapter are, sadly, true. Most are mine, even more sadly, or those of my friends. Pity us!_

I arrived well before our pre-arranged date time. It was a habit with me; I hated being late. I found a place to park and waited patiently until seven on the dot before leaving the car. There was no way I wanted to be the first to arrive, and it was highly likely that I wouldn't be able to get a table anyway. I nervously locked the car and began walking towards Joan's, making sure I had my messenger bag with the all-important model release inside.

All I'd had to do was yell at Sophie-Anne, 'going to get the Northman form signed!' and I was able to head out early to shop. It was really difficult to find the right outfit, because there was such a weird line I was trying to walk. Friendly, yet we're not on a date; attractive, yet not revealing. I'd finally settled on a maxi dress of the softest white cotton, with a vivid pastel peacock feather design at the hem. It had a rounded neck and an empire waist, so it was a little clingy but tasteful. I paired it with purple sequined flip flops and tied my hair into a bun, slipped on my glasses and was ready to go. It was casual and didn't look like I'd spent all afternoon shopping.

As I rounded the corner to Third, I saw him immediately or, at least, the back of his head. He was already seated at a sidewalk table with his back to me. I took a deep breath and kept mumbling, _'one__ night stand, one night stand_' over and over to myself and walked towards the seat opposite him.

He clearly wasn't expecting me to come from behind him, and in his haste to jump up and pull out my chair, his knee banged against the table and the glasses of water he'd had waiting splashed right onto the front of my dress - my _white_ dress.

Suddenly dripping wet, I just stood there for a moment in shock. It wasn't until Eric's eyes drew down towards my chest that I realized a) my dress and bra were now visible through my now**-**sheer dress and b) I was slightly chilly. Great, just great!

"Oh God, I am so sorry! Here, put this on." To my horror, Eric began to remove his denim shirt.

"NO! No, really, I'm fine," I protested.

As his fingers flew over the buttons, I realized he had a gray t-shirt on underneath. "Really, I insist. The suns setting, you'll catch a cold." He yanked the shirt from his shoulders and practically shoved it at me. Reluctantly, I slid it on, if for no other reason than to cover myself.'

_'Ohh__, it smells like him_,' I thought, but out loud I said, "Um, look Eric, I just need you to sign this form and then Ill let you be on your way." I fumbled in my bag, found the sheet of paper and handed it to him.

As a waitress came around with a towel to wipe the spilled water from the table, Eric replied, "Sookie, please. I just splashed water all over you. Have a seat and let me make it up to you. Buy you dinner?" He flashed his award-winning smile. The waitress eyes shot between us, and she gave me a look that clearly said, "Sit, fool!"

Clutching his shirt closed awkwardly, I perched on the edge of my seat and watched as the waitress eyefucked Eric. "Look, Eric, its really sweet of you to offer, but it was just water. Its fine, really. I'll just get the form and let you get on with whatever plans you must have this evening."

"My plans were having dinner with you, maybe getting to know you a little better. But, look, lets just get this out of the way-" he scribbled his signature on the form and handed it back without even reading it "-and now we can just relax and enjoy the evening. Now, what would you like to drink?" He gestured to the still-waiting waitress.

I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I really could use a drink, so I just said, "gin and tonic." The waitress, pleased that I was cooperating with my fuckhot companion, smiled and left. She was back in a ridiculously short amount of time, again giving an oblivious Eric a heated glance while handing me my drink. My nerves were pretty shot at this point, so I bolted it down. I gestured for another G&T.

Eric continued on, clueless. "This place has great food, and I know a great place a few blocks from here that has good music if you like dancing-"

"I don't know how to dance," I interrupted, as I downed my second drink of the night.

"Oh, well, that's okay. There's a theater near here, we could catch a movie, or-"

"I don't date," I blurted. "It sounds like you're planning a date, and I need to stop you here, because I don't date."

"Umm, what? Why?"

"Because," I sighed. "It's so much drama and hassle, you get all nervous and on edge, no one ever really presents a true version of themselves when they're dating. Then, by the time you figure out you have absolutely nothing in common with this person, its too late and you end up with nothing but heartache. So I just avoid the process altogether."

"If you don't mind me asking, what led you to draw this line in the sand?"

"A string of crazy-ass ex-boyfriends, that's what."

He started laughing. "C'mon, they couldn't have been _that_ bad. Everyone's got crazy exes. My ex-girlfriend was bat-shit!"

"Really? Try me. Whats the craziest thing she did?"

"Well, she once went off on me about a stray cat that showed up at our house. She said we already had a cat, so we didn't need another. When I protested that I had nothing to do with the stray showing up, she waited until I left the house, then put my favorite pair of jeans in our cats litter box. By the time I got home, our cat had peed all over them."

"Weird, yes. But were not even talking the same league of crazy here, Eric."

"Okay, hit me. Let me hear your best crazy ex story," he challenged.

"I once had an ex go off on me at a hockey game for failing to get him a _free bobble-head doll_ before they were all given away and the reason he wasn't able to get his own was because he was _too busy talking to another woman_." Clearly, the two drinks on an empty stomach had opened up my verbal floodgates.

"Nice... very nice! Well, I moved in with a girl once, only to have her suddenly up and move out two months later. Turns out, the only reason she wanted me to move in was because she was behind in rent when she left, the landlord turned up and I had to cough up the balance or get evicted!"

"Pffft. I met this guy online once, and I started piecing together that the things he told me weren't all matching up. For example, his kid wasn't the right age for the dates of his marriage, and when I called him on it, he tried to backpedal. So, I met someone else online, who seemed really great. Well, the oddball guy found out about the new guy and I called him on his bullshit, which he clumsily attempted to explain away. He gave me this big spiel about how we had clicked and to NOT go out with the new guy, but to give him another chance, all cards on the table. So, stupid me, I did. And, sure enough, he turned out to be a pathological liar, and the pretty great guy was so miffed over me calling off our date he never returned any of my calls."

"Ouch. That does suck."

"Oh, that's not even the worst one!"

"It gets WORSE?"

"Uh, YEAH! I dated a guy for three years, right? English guy. It turned out that one of my best friends, who is also English, was getting married right around the time of his moms 60th birthday. So, we decide to make the trip over. I'm going to be a bridesmaid, yada yada yada. So, we get there, and we're staying at his mom's house while she's on an extended hospital stay. We go to see her, she's great, a really super woman. We come back to her house, and my ex decides he wants to have Chinese for dinner. Now, he was from a really tiny town - typical English High Street and all that. So we walk to the High Street and I see a Chinese place, and not thinking a town that size can have more than one Chinese restaurant, I start to go in. He threw a conniption fit in the middle of the street, screaming about how that wasn't the one he wanted, it was too expensive, blah blah blah. I tried and tried to get him to calm down, but he went all drama queen on me and flounced off back to his house. I didn't really have any choice but to follow him. So we got back to the house and he started flinging my stuff into my suitcase, and he threw me out."

"He THREW you OUT?"

"Yup. In a foreign country. At night. Completely clueless as to where I was, since he'd handled all the travel arrangements once we were over there."

"Wow - what a bastard! What did you do?"

"I managed to get back to the train station and caught a train into London. We'd budgeted the trip really carefully, so I had to call my parents and have them wire me hotel funds until it was time for my friend's wedding. Let me tell you, it was REALLY fun flying back to the States stuck next to him on the plane!"

"I can't even imagine."

"So can you see why I don't date?"

"Well, I can see how you'd be cautious. What if we-" Eric was interrupted by a bony hand snaking into his hair. His head shot around to see who was caressing his carefully coiffed mane - crazed fan, perhaps? Whereas I, with the front row seat to the Crazy Show, merely sat back to watch.

"Eric, darrrrrrrlliiiinngggg," Pamela Ravenscroft dragged out. He looked horrified; she looked territorial. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your _friend_?" In woman-speak, this translates to: who is this bitch, and why is she with you? In what seemed like slow motion, stringy blonde hair obscured Eric's face as Pamela bent her head and kissed him. On the mouth. For longer than what would be deemed a socially acceptable friendly greeting. I think I saw a very skinny tongue dart out. Eww.

I took that as my cue. I grabbed my model release, shoved it into my bag and stood. "Well, Eric, something tells me I'll be adding this to my repertoire of stories I was telling you earlier. Thanks for signing this. Pamela, I hear they have great food here - oh, never mind." I spun on my flip flopped heel and left in a blaze of maxi dress.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized I was still wearing his denim shirt.


End file.
